(12-04-2015 05:41 AM)onlinebiker Wrote: (I had this on a previous thread - but it fits pretty well)

I was going through the US Coast Guard‘s Radioman School in the early 80‘s just outside of Petaluma California. One of my classmates was nicknamed Animal. A bikerish kind of guy who had a ratty old Ford pickup and a BSA motorcycle. The two of us hit it off right away, and spent a good share of our free time drinking, smoking anything we could find, and philandering with most anything we could hook up with.

One weekend - the weekend of the Fourth of July, Animal and I reserved a small camper trailer from the Coast Guard Base’s moral services. You could rent these little campers for about 5 bucks a day. We hooked it up to Animal’s truck and loaded up massive quantities of beer, liquor, a baggie or two Mendocino’s best and a couple of women who were also in Radioman School. The lady I took was a fairly nice looking girl named Jane, who I’d been tagging every once in a while when one of us could arrange for our roommates to vacate for a bit. It wasn’t easy, with 6 or 8 to a room. Animal dragged along Ray. I almost said “Animal dragged along a lady named Ray”, but to do so would be misleading. Sure Ray was female, but hardly a lady. She had openly proclaimed she was going to “do every guy in the school” on more than one drunken occasion. Normally, I wouldn’t mind such an attitude, but she was not a pleasant person in the least. Nor was she something you’d want to spend much time looking at. Short, squat, vaguely roundish, with short greasy hair, big glasses and bad teeth. Sort of like a troll, but without a troll’s innate cuteness. I shrugged and thought to my self - “Your funeral bro”.

We headed off, and the drinking commenced.

I’d like to give you a report of the ensuing trip, where we went, what we did on the way there and what we did when we got there, what was said and who said it. But sadly I can’t. There was simply too much alcohol for memory to be a viable option.

Where our story resumes is when I woke up. At first I thought I was in a junkyard. The first thing I saw when my vision came into focus was a pile of car parts. I was proud of myself for being able to identify a Rochester Quadrajet carburetor while dead. At least I thought I was dead. I was pretty sure of it, because living beings aren’t supposed to be able to feel quite as bad as I was feeling at the moment. After a minute or two, I realized I wasn’t dead, and was kind of disappointed. What I thought was the smell of embalming fluid was simply my own breath. I was disappointed because I realized I was simply very, very hung over and was going to have to deal with it. Then, it got worse.

I started looking about, and realized where I was. I was in the back end of Animal’s truck. He had a cap on the back and a bed, the sleeping kind - in the back end of the truck. Besides the bed, the back end was loaded up with car parts, tools, dirty clothes and assorted other packrat sorts of treasures. You easily see just by looking into the back of his truck why they called him Animal. Shit. Why was I in Animal’s truck? I then realized I wasn’t alone. At first I thought it was a rat growling at me. I wish. I turned over, and saw I was in bed with Ray. Of course, naked. My luck got somewhat better, as she was still passed out cold. What I thought was a rat growling was simply her snoring.

Panic took over. I began gathering my clothing, and as quietly as I could - which wasn’t very - began the arduous task of trying to make my getaway. Now, bear in mind a few things. The cap on the back of the truck didn’t leave anywhere near the room to stand up and the back of the truck was filled more or less to the gunwales with junk. You simply couldn’t get dressed inside without making a lot of noise. So I did the only sensible thing I could - which was to crawl over all the junk, to the back window over the tailgate and toss out my clothes and get dressed outside.

When I finally located my last item of clothing, I proceeded to crawl out the back of the truck. I hit the ground naked and looked about to figure out where I was.

Where I was, was the middle of Bodega Bay State park. In the RV camping section. If you’ve never been there - it’s basically a wide open, sandy area - with not a tree, shrub or fence to hide behind. Think of a parking lot - full of RV campers. In broad daylight. With hundreds of people staring at you. Women covering the eyes of children. Shit.

Getting dressed in record time while extremely hung over isn’t something I recommend you try. You simply can’t do it. There’s a lot of falling down and cussing involved. I’m sure there were some people who were amused by my antics. Some were probably mortified. Well, you can’t please everyone. I’ve often wondered if anybody thought to grab a camera. Thankfully, digital cameras and cell phones with them, hadn’t been invented yet. Had they, I’m sure I’d be a bit of a celebrity on YouTube.

"If there's a single thing that life teaches us, it's that wishing doesn't make it so." - Lev Grossman

(12-04-2015 07:52 PM)Nurse Wrote: So you're telling me you've never woken up and thought I can't believe I stuck my dick in that or had public bathroom sex or what you thought was a wall was a trash bin or something equally facepalm worthy?

Oh, I thought walk of shame meant that it had to be somehow embarrassing

We'll love you just the way you are
If you're perfect -- Alanis Morissette

(06-02-2014 03:47 PM)Momsurroundedbyboys Wrote: And I'm giving myself a conclusion again from all the facepalming.

(12-04-2015 07:52 PM)Nurse Wrote: So you're telling me you've never woken up and thought I can't believe I stuck my dick in that or had public bathroom sex or what you thought was a wall was a trash bin or something equally facepalm worthy?

Oh, I thought walk of shame meant that it had to be somehow embarrassing

So DLJ takes Victory Laps and Morondog does the Stride of Pride.

Most of mine have been more of a Slut Strut.

"If there's a single thing that life teaches us, it's that wishing doesn't make it so." - Lev Grossman

This almost sounds like what happened after the tequila that caused you to have to put your BF's clothes on in the first place.

"If we are honest—and scientists have to be—we must admit that religion is a jumble of false assertions, with no basis in reality.
The very idea of God is a product of the human imagination."
- Paul Dirac

So, I have this tendency to wake up somewhat confused, every now and then. It typically involves me dreaming about something, waking up, and not realizing that I was just dreaming. This leads to me trying to figure out how that dream fits in with reality (which is almost always a dark bedroom). Usually, I just sit there confused, but some times I do some really weird and sometimes funny things.

One night, about ten years ago, I had some dream that I was being swarmed by a bunch of tiny robots, or somethings. I wake up, spring out of bed, and run out the back door, all in less than five seconds. Without having any plan (or any idea of why these robots are around or where they've come from), I head to my car, thinking I'll go to my parent's house. I have no idea why I thought this was a good idea.

Normally, when this sort of thing happens to me, the more thought I put into it, the more I start waking up, because the dream doesn't make any sense. I'm walking to the car, trying to formulate a plan. It's a little chilly out, and I can feel a light rain misting on my skin. I reach for my keys in my pocket, but I don't have any keys, because I don't have any pockets, because I sleep naked.

So, about this time, I realize that there are no robots, and I am standing in my driveway around 3:00 AM naked. I walk up the stairs to the back deck with this growing sense of dread that I somehow had the thought to lock the door behind me. I did. I reflexively locked it on my way out, like I do every time, even thinking the robots were there. Sadly, we didn't have a doorbell on the back door, so I try to knock loud enough to wake up my wife and not my neighbors. She didn't wake up, but at least they didn't, either. So, I say "fuck it" and sprint down my drive way to the front porch and start ringing the door bell over and over.

After what seems like an eternity, I see the dining room light turn on, and my very confused wife start looking around. Of course, I didn't think how she'd take waking up in the middle of the night to a door bell seeing her husband not in bed with her. She stares out into the darkness outside before opening the door (thankfully she didn't turn the porch light on!), and I push past her as she opens the door.